Date Him, Please
by IlluminatedShadow
Summary: If Arthur isn't getting any, neither is Alfred. That's why, for the sake of their love life, its up to him and Matthew to make sure Arthur finds someone and gets some. Enter Francis. Lets hope this works. AU, Alfred/Matthew, Arthur/Francis
1. Chapter 1

Oh gawd, I am so sorry. -sobs- The bunnies just won't leave me alone! -is dragged away by the plotbunnies-

Warnings: sexual situations, AU, slash, language, fail, OOCness

Pairings: Alfred/Matthew, Arthur/many, Arthur/Francis eventually

* * *

"Its like he's cockblocking me on purpose, Matt!" Alfred whined, draping himself across his boyfriend's lap. Glancing up at Matthew's unsympathetic face, the blond's lips twisted into a pout, blue eyes sulking.

"Just because Arthur is my brother and you two have been arguing since you the day you both met, does not mean that he's out to get you." Matthew said dryly, violet eyes unimpressed with his boyfriend's behavior.

"When was the last time we did the mattress mambo, huh?" Alfred demanded.

Matthew looked thoughtful, idly running a comforting hand through the other's golden hair. "Last night?"

"I barely had the lube out before Arthur called, drunk, wanting to apologize for all the times he accidently locked you out of the house when you were young."

"At least he apologized." The Canadian pointed out gently.

"And the time before that? He purposely flushed the toilet when we were trying to have shower sex!" The elder blond scowled, still tormented by the memory of a wet and squirming Matthew and still incredibly bitter that he wasn't able to savor the moment.

"When nature calls…" Matthew shrugged, tugging on Alfred's flyaway strand of hair.

"And Christmas sex?" Alfred snapped, sitting up and grabbing Matthew's face between his hands. "He just had to deliver your presents that night?"

Matthew glared at Alfred, cheeks smooshed together under the other's palms. "He gets excited during the holidays."

Giving his boyfriend a final frustrated look, Alfred sighed loudly and flopped against the younger man. "Just because he can't get any, he thinks we all have live like nuns."

"Alfred." Matthew scolded, shoving the other man with a frown. "He's my brother. He's all I have left. You don't like him, fine. But just because you're incapable of going with sex for a few days, doesn't mean you can make him the bad person in all of this. When he finds that special person, he will give us some more space but until then show some compassion!"

Alfred ducked his head, shame coloring his cheeks. His boyfriend always knew how to make him feel bad. Sometimes, that soothing, soft voice would drag him to a pit of despair and tears, if Matthew were really angry.

"Honestly, sometimes I think you only want me for the sex." The blond huffed, glaring at the contrite American.

"That's not true!" the man responded quickly. "You make orgasmic pancakes too!"

Matthew, smile twitching on his lips, grabbed one of the throw cushions and smacked Alfred upside the head with it. "Hoser."

"But you love me anyways~" Alfred cooed, grabbing the pillow as Matthew swung it again and pulled the leaner man onto his lap. "My little Canuck cap."

Matthew smiled widely this time, leaning forward and pecking Alfred on the lips. "And you're favorite bitch." Laughing at the other's confused frown, he explained, "Just like America is Canada's bitch—'cause my nation tops."

"Hahaha—yeah, no." Alfred said flatly, blue eyes teasing. "Speaking of bitches, are you ready to watch my boys spank your precious Habs?"

"No, but I'm prepared to watch all of Boston cry when we trounce them." Matthew responded carelessly, a competitive edge to his voice. He glanced over at the digital clock. "Ten minutes to game time."

"…I think that's enough time for a quickie."

Matthew just stared at him incredulously, prompting Alfred to defend himself. "I'm horny, damn it!"

"I think you're offsides."

"I might be offsides," Alfred smirked, tugging Matthew closer. "but wouldn't you like a little high-sticking in your crease?"

The other blond blinked before starting to laugh. Alfred grinned and tilted his head up, pressing his lips firmly against the other's and drinking in the peals of laughter that fell from Matthew's lips. Pulling away, he set to work nipping and kissing the area below Matthew's jaw while slipping his hand's under the other's shirt.

"He shoots, he scores." Matthew murmured, knotting his hands in Alfred's hair and tugging his head back for another kiss and Alfred gladly obliged, fingers pressing into the warm skin of his boyfriend's torso—

When the door flew open and a distinctly British voice called out, "I believe there's a hockey match on the telly today. I've brought dip!"

Both men froze, turning their heads to see Arthur enter the living room, green eyes stern and a disappointed curve to his lips. "This place is a mess, Matthew. I thought I raised you better than this." Finally he noticed the two blonds on the couch. "Oh, am I interrupting something?"

Matthew was the first to come to his senses. "N-no, of course not!" He denied vehemently, mortified that his brother had caught him in such a position. Pushing himself off Alfred, he dashed into the kitchen, shouting, "I'll make some tea!"

Alfred, on the other hand, made no move to stand or cover his hard-on. Lips forming a thin line, he laughed harshly and said, "What a surprise, Iggy! I don't remember inviting you."

Arthur just smiled coldly. "Not on my watch, you Yankee git." With a haughty sniff, the sandy-haired man turned and followed his younger brother into the kitchen.

Alfred just cursed. "Not trying to cockblock me, my ass."

* * *

"Remember when you said once Arthur finds that special person, he'll leave us alone?" Alfred began casually, eyes focused on the television as he flipped through the channels.

Matthew made an affirmative noise, not even looking up from where he was refilling Kumajirou's bowl. The cat meowed happily and started to eat, though not before giving Matthew a questioning look.

Oh well. It wasn't the first time (in the five years he had been taking care of it, Matthew noted with resignation).

"Well, I have this friend—"

"We are not setting up my brother with one of your insane friends just so 'Little Alfred' can get some action." Matthew said with finality.

Well, damn it.

Alfred finally settled on Real Housewives of New York. Just to annoy Matthew.

(And also because he wanted to know what would happen when Jill crashed the girls' getaway.)

* * *

"Fuck, just like that." Alfred said breathlessly, shakily brushing a few strands of Matthew's hair away from his face, just so he could see those wicked lips wrapped around his dick. "You're so beautiful."

Matthew hummed lightly, the vibrations forcing Alfred to groan even as his blue eyes were locked on the source of his pleasure. Shimmering violet eyes stared back as Matthew purposely dragged his mouth up and off the other's member, before teasing the head and underside with kitten-esque licks, hand sneaking forward to fondle Alfred's sac.

"You're killin' me Mattie." Alfred whined, throwing his head back even as his body trembled under the other's ministrations.

Matthew just chuckled lowly before, much to Alfred's delight, he began to pump the organ leisurely with sure strokes of his hand.

"So _fucking _close—"

"Matthew! I just found this new recipe for scones!"

Alfred bit back a wail of despair as Matthew jerked back, violet eyes wide and cock immediately flaccid, when he registered his brother's voice.

"Coming Arthur!" He shouted, ever the dutiful brother. Turning back to Alfred with apologetic eyes, he whispered, "Let me just finish you quickly."

"Don't bother." Alfred snapped, blue eyes furious. "I'll just go jerk off in the bathroom." Sneering, he added, "Unless you gave him the keys to that too?"

The hurt on Matthew's face as he got off the bed and starting to pull his clothes back on, made Alfred feel like an ass.

"I'm sorry, Mattie." He said cajolingly, blue eyes watching the other's jerky movements. "I shouldn't have—"

Matthew ignored him, buttoning up his jeans and pulling on a discarded shirt before storming out of the room and shutting the door behind him.

Alfred swore, brushing his hair back roughly.

He was still painfully hard and he'd probably be sleeping on the couch for the next week. If he was lucky.

* * *

"Forgive me?"

Matthew glanced up from his book, pretty violet eyes frosty as he regarded Alfred evenly. The other blond wore a hesitant smile but his pacific blue eyes were repentant as held out a haphazardly gift-wrapped box. With a pointed frown that indicated that Matthew was only humoring the other male, the Canadian reached for the box and began to unwrap it with deft fingers.

Alfred held his breath and crossed his fingers as he waited for the other's reaction. Once Matthew had removed the brightly colored paper and lifted the lid to reveal the brand new jersey nestled between tufts of tissue paper, he said, quietly, "I know how much you like Sidney Crosby." He watched Matthew lift up the jersey and turn it over to see the name emblazoned across the back. As he pulled up the material, two tickets tumbled down. "I thought you'd wanna go watch…"

Matthew was silent, but when he spoke his voice was subdued. "This is…I mean, I appreciate it…but its too much, don't you think?" He looked up, face guilty. "I was just going to ignore you for another day."

Alfred shrugged, a small smile on his face. "I thought me constantly complaining about being horny made you feel less important." He paused, flashing a boy-next-door smile at his boyfriend. "I just want to spend some time with you, like we used too before we got so busy at work." And before your brother decided to hijack our lives, he added to himself. "And while you still owe me a blowjob, I figure I'll just put it on your tab for now." He said with an easy laugh.

Matthew's lips curved into a sweet smile. "Actually, I think I want to pay off my tab now." He stood up, stretching languidly so his shirt rode up to reveal pale skin. "Maybe lay down a deposit?"

And with that he sauntered down the hall and into the bedroom.

"God, I love this man." Alfred muttered, following close behind with a rakish smile on his lips.

* * *

Yes, Arthur did call just as Alfred entered Matthew, eliciting a stream of filthy Quebecois curses from Matthew and a litany of "Why me?"s from Alfred.

After hanging up on Arthur following a long and tearfully boring discussion on what color of socks Matthew wanted Arthur to knit, Matthew turned to Alfred, who was now curled up on the side of the bed, exuding a miasma of sorrow so thick that even Matthew felt the urge to tear up.

"Maybe we should put a personal ad for him in the paper?" The blond said softly, now a little miffed at his brother's repeated coincidental interruptions. "But with his permission, of course. I want my brother to be happy."

Alfred, who would much rather sell Arthur to a black market prostitution ring (sell? Hell, he'd just hand over the stuffy, meddling Englisman for free!), was quick to agree.

The sooner Arthur had someone special, the sooner Alfred could get back to his special someone.

* * *

Worth continuing?


	2. Chapter 2

This received a far better response than I expected. Hot damn, people. You all rock so hard! Thanks to everyone following this story. Isn't it nice that you didn't have to wait several months before getting an update? -is bricked-

Pairing: Arthur/mentioned others, Alfred/Matthew, eventual Arthur/Francis

Previous warnings apply

Disclaimer: I claim no ownership.

* * *

When Alfred came home from work, Matthew had set up camp on the couch, laptop in lap and glasses balanced on the edge of his nose.

"Sup, babe?" Alfred asked, coming closer and pressing his lips against Matthew's temple. Catching sight of the website, he chuckled. "E-Romance? Find your soul mate today?"

"I'm setting up a profile for Arthur." The younger man said, engrossed in the form he was meticulously filling out. "I want him to find someone that he'll like. I'll monitor the activity myself and print out the people who are interested myself."

"Hopefully there'll be someone." Alfred muttered, looking contrite when Matthew gave him a sharp look.

"And then I'll show them to Arthur and he can pick with whom he'll have dinner." Matthew finished.

"And he agreed to this?"

"Not at first." Matthew admitted, clicking Save before shutting the laptop. "But I reasoned with him."

"Meaning, you guilt-tripped him." The other blond chuckled. "And you cried a little."

"Its still better than drugging him and selling him into prostitution." Matthew said good-naturedly, giving a pointed look at Alfred.

"Hey, you say 'toe-may-toe', I say 'toe-mah-toe', either way Arthur is out of our hair." Alfred dashed back before Matthew could smack him. "But that's still Plan B!" He shouted, disappearing into the bathroom before his boyfriend could defend his brother's honor.

* * *

"He likes soccer." Matthew tried, holding out the picture of a stylish blond man with sharp blue eyes.

"He's _French_." Arthur spat out, as though the very word was poison on his tongue.

"What about this one?" The younger man said, ruffling through the pages he had printed from the other's profile. "He likes the Sex Pistols."

The green-eyed man seemed to mull that over. "Go on."

Happily, Matthew complied. "His favorite food is lobster, his favorite poet is Byron. He follows Liverpool—"

"Bloody hell no."

Matthew sighed. "How about her?" He held up a picture of a pretty girl with long brown hair in pigtails. "She likes fish."

"…And?"

"…and taking long walks on the beach and colors." The blond looked at the picture. "At least she's pretty."

"No."

"_Yes._" Matthew snapped, putting the picture in one pile. "You know what? I shouldn't have asked your opinion. You've shot down every single person."

"Did you ever stop to consider," the older man asked, annoyed, "whether or not I even want a significant other?"

"You do, you said so the last time we went drinking."

"Matthew. I was drunk. You shouldn't hold me to anything I say when I'm plastered. For heaven's sake, I strip down to my knickers!"

"Arthur, you're my brother. I can tell you're lonely." Matthew said, voice laced with concern as he ignored Arthur's sputtered, "Lonely? Hog wash!", "You usually ignore me otherwise."

"That is hardly the case. I'm happy being single and I'm not lonely."

"When was the last time you spent time with someone other than me?" Matthew challenged, smirking victoriously when Arthur had no response. "Dear brother, you have no life. And I hate seeing you so unhappy. So please just let me help. You never know, you might find your soul mate."

Arthur was about to respond scathingly but one look at his younger brother's sweet face, so earnest and determined (with just a little hint of "I dare you to stop me" in his eyes) and he crumbled like a soggy scone (made by anyone other than him, of course). "This one seems decent." He mumbled grudgingly, holding up a picture of a young Japanese man with his hands folded demurely in his lap. He pretended to not see the brilliant smile on Matthew's face and told himself he was only cooperating so as to not worry the lad and not because he was lonely.

* * *

"Mattie, would you stop pacing and just sit down?" Alfred whined, patting his thigh flirtatiously when Matthew stopped moving to look at him.

"Arthur had his first date tonight." Matthew fretted, violet eyes worried. "We should've followed them."

Alfred groaned, reigning in the urge to just bury his face in his hands. He had thought that he and Matthew could have a little uninterrupted fun that night since Arthur was out on a date (finally!). But, no. Matthew was too on edge and flustered to realize that Alfred had been trying to seduce him all evening.

"What if it was awful?" Matthew asked. "What if he's a jerk? What if he's a serial killer?" He gasped. "I'm going to the restaurant—"

Alfred shot up and caught his boyfriend around the waist. "What if you're just overreacting?" He pointed out gently. "My darling Matthew." He cooed, planting a kiss below the other's ear. "You're such a good brother, but Arthur is a big boy now. You don't need to take care of him." He gently massaged the other's waist, nuzzling Matthew's neck. "Why don't you just let me…" He suggestively let his hand slip lower, relishing in the soft blush that began to rise on his lover's face.

"O-okay." Matthew mumbled, sagging tiredly against his boyfriend. "You're right. I'm just being silly…"

"You're being you." Alfred reassured. "And I love you."

"I love you too—"

The door flew open and slammed against the wall with a loud crack.

"It was a disaster." Said the bane of Alfred's existence.

Immediately, Matthew flew out of his grip and began to fuss over Arthur.

"I'm just going to go kill myself." Alfred said with false cheer.

"Okay, but could you please set some water to boil first?" Matthew asked over his shoulder, more focused in leading Arthur to the couch.

Fuck my life, Alfred thought bitterly.

* * *

"And then both his exes burst into the restaurant!" Arthur said heatedly as Matthew nodded sympathetically. "One of those wankers told me to stay away from and the other just picked Kiku up and then they both just left the restaurant."

"Oh Arthur…"

"It was bloody humiliating." The sandy-haired man grumbled. "And I had to pay the entire bill. I didn't even get to have dessert."

"You poor thing." Matthew comforted, wrapping the blanket tighter around his older brother and handing him a cookie.

"But other than that it was a wonderful evening." Arthur admitted with a smile, taking the cookie. "Its not too bad, getting back onto the scene. Perhaps the second date will be better?"

"God I hope so." Alfred said loudly from where he was lounging in the armchair.

* * *

"I cannot believe you." Matthew scolded, hands gripping the steering wheel as he maneuvered the car out of the parking garage. "You weren't even trying, were you?"

Arthur, who Matthew had shoved into the front seat, did a very good job of playing apologetic as his younger brother ranted.

"He was so cheerful and friendly, but somehow you found something wrong with him."

"He was _too_ cheerful and friendly if you ask me." Arthur ventured, flinching when Matthew glared at him.

Alfred sat in the back, grinning and watching the verbal ass kicking commence.

"And that warranted dragging him into an argument?"

"He thought Real Madrid was better than Manchester United. I just couldn't stand by and watch him piss on my team!"

"He's Spanish! Of course he'd think that!" Matthew exploded. "And that is still no reason to bring up the Spanish Armada! That was centuries ago and you brought it up!"

"Well, England did kick Spain's a—"

"Not the point!"

"This is great." Alfred giggled.

"Well, if it's so irrelevant now, why did he get angry?"

"Because you gave us an entire history lesson on why England is better than Spain and he's from Madrid!"

"Yes, well that's no excuse."

"We can never go back to that place now." Matthew moaned, head thumping against the steering wheel. "And I really enjoyed their salmon."

"I'll make you salmon at home, babe."

"You're not even allowed to talk!" Matthew snarled, whirling around and throwing a murderous look at his boyfriend. "You were cheering them on."

Alfred looked ashamed.

Turning back to Arthur, Matthew said, "If you don't take the next date seriously, I will call mother and see will set you up with one of her friends' daughters."

Leaving with that threat ringing in the air, Matthew turned on the radio.

Justin Bieber began to croon from the speakers. But neither passenger dared complain.

* * *

The third date was with someone of Alfred's choice.

(In reality, he just got to draw a picture from the pile of people Matthew had already chosen.)

You can imagine how that went once Arthur found out.

"I don't think I'll be seeing her again."

"But, the date went well right?" Matthew asked.

"Oh, fantastic."

"But you won't see her again?"

"Not likely."

And with that, Arthur hung up, leaving Matthew to sigh and shuffle through the pile again.

"Can we just go ahead and sell him now?" Alfred asked, popping his head into the room.

"No!"

* * *

"Pardon me, but could you tell me where the photography books are?"

Arthur looked up from the cookbook he was perusing, one thick eyebrow raised. "Sorry? Were you speaking to me?"

The blond man seemed distracted, dark blue eyes locked on his eyebrows. "_Sacre bleu_." He murmured. "Do they not have dress rules for workers here?"

"I wouldn't' know." Arthur said curtly, recognizing the faint French accent of the man and already disliking him. "I don't work here."

The man looked at him before breaking out in a brilliant smile. "Surely you must be joking." He chuckled richly.

"I assure you, I'm quite serious." Arthur bristled.

"But you look…" the man gestured at his sweater vest and Oxfords. "…like you work here."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Plain, boring, unfashionable." The man rattled off promptly, cupping his stubbled chin in his hand. "Perhaps if you plucked those beasts and burned that vest, you might become fractionally homely."

"Listen here, wanker—"

"And you're British." The man shook his head. "That can't be helped. You'll just have to keep your mouth shut." He gave him a pitying smile.

"Why don't you go back to the swamp you crawled out of, frog." Arthur snapped before he smirked viciously. "Or Paris. There's not much difference between the two, after all."

The other man's face reddened in anger.

* * *

Both men had to be escorted out of the store by security.

But not before they managed to knock over five shelves and two elderly people and the Best Sellers display table.

And so went the first meeting of Arthur Kirkland and Francis Bonnefoy.

* * *

So...hopefully this chapter did not disappoint. ^_^. Yes, Matthew is a wonderful little brother (I'd answer the phone during sex too if my bro called me-'course I'd also beat him later so yeah) and Alfred is the long-suffering boyfriend. And Arthur is the disapproving older bro. And Francis is fantabulous. -winkwink-

-Evil laugh- I should demand another 40+ reviews before updating again. -is shot- Jk, jk. I'll try to update as fast as I can.


	3. Chapter 3

You guys rock so hard. I'm almost terrified of the sheer numbers this story has captured. To everyone who fav'd, put this story on their alerts, and reviewed, I'm so grateful. I hope that this chapter satisfies you all and that its a decent follow-up to the previous ones.

Here's to hoping I didn't muck it all up.

Just a note. Kiku's exes are Sadiq and Heracles. The girl was Portugal (yeah, she's fem). Yes, it was Antonio who Arthur fought with XD.

Pairing: Alfred/Matthew, Arthur/various mentioned, eventual FrUk.

* * *

Matthew stared in disbelief at his elder brother, lavender eyes wide and mouth a little slack.

Alfred, leaning against the arm of the couch and arm wrapped around his boyfriend's shoulders, blinked and slowly said, "…You said what?"

Arthur, a vivid scarlet handprint on his cheek, looked away, face contrite. "…That if the Indians didn't like the British, they should've fought a little harder…"

Matthew's hands clenched and unclenched, and he took a deep breath to steady himself. Eyes fluttering shut, the blond man rose gracefully to his feet and spoke, in a level voice. "I'm going to go scream into a pillow." His eyes opened slowly and locked on a wary Arthur. "And if you're still here when I return, so help me Arthur…" Matthew trailed off pointedly, turning swiftly on his heel and disappearing down the hallway to the master bedroom.

When the door slammed shut behind the young man, Alfred, finally managing to find his voice, stated. "You're not even trying, are you?"

"Of course I am!" Arthur snapped vehemently, bristling slightly at the skeptical look the other man gave him.

"Somehow, I don't believe that." Alfred shot back, lips curling into a sneer.

The sandy-haired man returned the look with a frigid glare. "The date began just fine and then the stupid bird brought up imperialism. Was I just supposed to sit there and listen to her blather on ignorantly?"

"Yes!" Alfred exploded. "That's how you handle with women! You just nod your head and agree with every single that comes out of their mouth—no matter how retarded it is!"

"So, just as Matthew handles you?"

"Ye—Fuck you!" Alfred snarled, catching himself. "At least I have a stable relationship and a sense of tact—"

Arthur snorted. "'A sense of tact'?" He shook his head. "Git, you spew verbal diarrhea and sodomize the English language on a daily basis without a second thought. You are the most tactless, moronic—"

"And you're a stuck-up, selfish asshole—"

"—childish, nosy—"

"—limey nerd—"

"—_fat_—"

Alfred gasped, hand flying unconsciously to his stomach. Arthur grinned victoriously from where he had stood during their argument.

"Tell me, Alfred." The green-eyed man smirked. "When was the last time you and Matthew shagged?" He looked too smug and Alfred's jaw dropped.

"I knew it! I fucking knew it!" He pointed at the other man. "You cock-blocking son of a bitch!"

Arthur just continued to grin smugly at the younger blond, who only grew angrier by each passing second.

"Maybe Matthew no longer finds you attractive." Arthur tossed out casually, feeling a flash of self-satisfaction at the way Alfred's eyes narrowed.

After the disastrous date earlier that day (he did NOT start the argument—gentlemen do not fight with ladies) and the previous altercation with that French bastard, Arthur was more than happy to take out his rage and stress over his failed dates out on someone who had always been a source of irritation for him.

(What Matthew saw in the bloody Yank, he'd never understand. He just attributed it to Matthew's quiet stubborn streak—the same one that resulted in his impromptu decision to learn French despite their parents' horror.)

The other blond's pacific blue eyes sharpened behind his glasses. Alfred, sick and tired of Arthur and unbelievably frustrated (sexually and otherwise), refused to back down.

"Fine, I'm a childish, manner-less idiot." He began heatedly. "But you know what? I still managed to land an amazing man who loves me—just the way I am! Know what else? I'm going to grow old and have a wonderful life with Matthew, but you're going to be lonely and bitter forever! Who would want someone like you?" Alfred gestured at the other, making an unimpressed noise. "You're critical, OCD, and old-fashioned. You're high maintenance and a complete jerk. You can't even accept help! Poor Matt's been running himself ragged trying to find you a soul mate and you're just making it harder on him! You don't deserve a brother like him and one day you'll lose him because he'll realize just what a bad person you are! Then you'll be alone—just like you want! You'll die alone and bitter because no one could love a…a…" Alfred fumbled for his words, vision clouded by fury. He finally gave up and settled for glaring at the dead silent man with blistering eyes.

"Alfred…" Matthew's voice reached his ears and the blond whirled around to see his boyfriend staring at him in horror. His boyfriend just shook his head in disappointment before turning his attention to his older brother. "Arthur, he doesn't mean that—"

Alfred, still not in control of his voice, argued, "Yes I do."

"Alfred—"

"Its okay, Matthew." Arthur said suddenly, green eyes a little too bright. "Perhaps it would be best if I left."

"No, please Arthur…" Matthew rushed forward, grasping his elder brother, pleading.

Arthur just shrugged off his hand and managed to give him a small reassuring smile. "Thanks for all you've done, Matthew. But you needn't worry, anymore." He squeezed the younger man's shoulders affectionately before letting go and making his way to the door. "I will see you soon, don't worry."

"Arthur, please—"

But the sandy-haired man quietly slipped out, door shutting softly behind him. Matthew stared at the door for a few moments longer before he looked back at Alfred with furious plum-colored eyes.

"How could you?" He hissed, anger coloring his words. "I've never heard you be so cruel."

"Did you even hear what he said to me?" Alfred asked harshly. "It was self-defense Mattie."

"That was my brother, Alfred! And you disrespected him. He's the only family I have over here—"

"Some family." Alfred snorted. "You'd be better off flying back to Europe to see your mom and dad."

"My mom and dad," Matthew gritted out, "were too busy vacationing everywhere from Goa to Switzerland to Brazil to give a damn about raising me. Arthur is more of a parent to me than either of them!"

"He tried to cock-block me! He hates me and he pretty much admitted it!"

"Would it kill you to stop thinking about sex?" Matthew snapped. "And couldn't you at least try to make nice with him? For me?"

"I've tried, Matt. You know I have. But your brother is more stubborn than an ox!" The American said defensively. "And I don't see you scolding Arthur. Its always 'Alfred don't say that' or 'Alfred be nice'."

"He's my brother—"

"So that means he has the right to be a douche?"

"You told him he'd never find love!"

"And he won't! Not if he keeps being himself!"

"Oh? So he should be something he's not?" Matthew rolled his eyes.

"Yes!" Alfred huffed out. "This is why you should've just agreed to—"

"I'm not selling my brother into prostitution!"

"So he should keep interfering with our relationship? Because he clearly has zero interest in dating—"

"It was the girl's fault—"

"Oh please. You don't think Arthur couldn't have stopped the argument from happening?" Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Do you think he has such little self-control, Matt?"

God help him, Alfred adored Matthew but he was really getting sick and tired of the other's constant excuses for his brother's behavior and his annoying need to side with the bad-tempered man.

Matthew said nothing, biting his lip and just glaring at his boyfriend.

"Face it, he doesn't care and he's just going to keep meddling and you're too much of a—" Alfred suddenly stopped speaking, eyes widening as Matthew's eyes narrowed.

"Too much of a what?" He asked lowly.

"Nothing." Alfred said quickly. "Babe, lets just forget this fight—"

"No, babe, I think I want to hear what you have to say."

Alfred, realizing that he was already on the couch for at least a month, just sighed. "You're a pushover, Mattie. You just let him run roughshod over you. He doesn't want a relationship—or at least he's not taking it seriously. You never set up any boundaries with him and now he's all up in our business because he has no life. You can't even find it in you to tell him to leave us alone."

Matthew regarded him with impassive eyes, a layer of ice settling over the rich purple hue. Alfred reached out to him, puling the unresisting man into his arms and nuzzling his temple, trying to soften his words and soothe away the other's temper. "You're a fantastic brother, Matthew. But you have to draw the line. It's not about the fact that we haven't had sex in a while—one week and four days and thirteen hours and twenty minutes exactly, by the way. It's about the fact that I'm dating you, not you and Arthur. I don't appreciate him constantly butting in and I just wish you'd take my side for once."

"I signed him up for an online dating site, just so Arthur could date and give us time to ourselves." Matthew said moodily. "I didn't really want to…but I thought it'd be for the best."

"But you still were too busy worrying about Arthur's date instead of us." Alfred pointed out, trying to keep his temper in check. "Is it too much to ask for a little attention, sweetheart?"

Matthew said nothing, expression hidden by his curling bangs. Wordlessly, he pulled out of Alfred's embrace.

"That doesn't make what you said right." He said softly, walking away and pulling open a draw, snatching up a pair of car keys and fixing his boyfriend with a stern look.

Feeling his anger return slowly, Alfred, voice painfully quiet and dangerous, said, "You're really going to let your brother come between us?"

Matthew gazed at him defiantly. "Did you even see his face when he left, Al?"

Alfred's expression tightened. That was it. He had tried being patient. He had tried reasoning with his boyfriend. But it seemed that Matthew just refused to listen. "Fine." He continued, in that same emotionless voice. "It seems that you and Arthur really aren't so different."

Matthew's eyes widened fractionally, hurt sparking in his gaze, before his face cleared. "I guess so." He shrugged and made his way to the door. "I'm going to make sure he's okay."

"C'mon Matthew!" Alfred shouted. "He's just as much to blame! And he called me fat."

"You are getting a little pudgy around the middle." Matthew noted flippantly.

Alfred flinched. "Matthew, if you step outside that door, then don't you dare come back." He said icily, certain that Matthew would see how serious he was and back down.

The sharp sound of the door opening, followed by a heavy thud of it slamming shut, was Alfred's only response.

Okay, well that did not go the way he had hoped.

But Alfred, stubborn himself and less likely to admit he was wrong, just said aloud to himself, "He'll be back. He'll come crawling back."

He repeated it a few more times, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut.

* * *

"Matthew…" Arthur trailed off helplessly, hand wavering near his younger brother's shoulder as the other sobbed, curling in on himself on his older brother's couch. "I'm sure he didn't mean it."

Matthew didn't respond, just started crying harder. "I-I've r-ruined e-everything…" He choked out, pressing the heels of his hands harder against his eyes to stem the flow of tears.

"Now that's not true." Arthur said comfortingly, finally wrapping his arm around his brother's shoulders and pulling him close. "He loves you. He worships the very ground you walk on. He was just angry." At me, he added mentally, feeling guilt wash over him, and he took it out on you, Matthew.

No doubt, he had pushed Alfred just a tad too much. He deserved those harsh words.

The git was right. He'd never find anyone to put up with him.

"B-but…that doesn't…g-give him the right to…b-be such a j-jerk!" Matthew murmured.

"I'm sure he regrets it, dear heart."

_

* * *

Baby come back, any kind of fool could see,_

_There was something in everything about you_

"Matthew, I'm sorry!" Alfred wailed, curled up on their shared bed, clinging to the other's pillow, burying his nose into it and inhaling wisp of the other's shampoo as Player lamented in the background. "Baby come back!" He sang along, words punctuated by hiccups and sniffles. "You can blame it all on me~~~"

* * *

"You'll get past it, I'm sure."

Matthew's cries began to quiet down as Arthur rubbed comforting circles on the others back.

"There there Matthew. Hush now." He whispered, just barely refraining from just rocking the other just as he did when they were younger.

"We fought over you." His brother admitted hesitantly. "He…he thinks you're butting in on purpose. But…but you're not, right?" He asked, looking up at Arthur with reddish eyes. "I mean, you don't like him and you admitted to interrupting us sometimes, but you don't really mean it, right?"

Arthur stilled, feeling a renewed sense of guilt. Honestly, he had only meant to ruffle the other's feathers a bit. He hadn't meant to drive a wedge between the two lovers.

"Of course not, Matthew. Of course not." He said softly. "Its just a misunderstanding."

Clearly I've overstepped my welcome, he thought ruefully.

"Go back to him, Matthew." Arthur said suddenly. "He loves you. You two are perfect together."

"But he told me to never come back…"

* * *

When Arthur called Alfred, the other man sounded exhausted.

"I'll back off." Arthur said briskly.

"Lies." Alfred hissed. "Lulling me into a false sense of security. Matthew might believe in your innocence but I—"

"Shut up, twat." Arthur said coldly. "He's sobbing in my living room. Come and whisk him away and take care of him. If you love him half as much as I think you do, you'd—"

He was interrupted by the sound of the dial tone and the Englishman couldn't help but smile a bit.

* * *

When Alfred rushed into his apartment and Matthew threw his arms around him, Arthur watched quietly from the hallway.

When Alfred kissed his younger brother, hands cradling his face gently, before leading him out of his flat, Arthur smiled fondly.

When both men had left, Arthur sighed and quietly conceded that, maybe, just maybe, he wanted something special like that.

And he swore to put forth more of an effort.

* * *

Edit: "Baby come back" is actually by Player, not Hall & Oates. Thanks to Nivell for pointing that out! I really appreciate it.

Both Alfred and Matthew are stubborn idiots. Arthur didn't realize how much he was hurting the two's relationship, mostly due to Matthew's passiveness and Alfred's ...Alfred-ness. The girl mentioned in the beginning is India XD.

Because its not me if there isn't a little bit of angst. But it was brief, so yay?

So, after this chapter, is this story still worth continuing? Or did I just drop the ball and now this sucks?


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Do not own.

* * *

"Ah…perhaps this was a bad time." Arthur said hurriedly, green eyes wide beneath thick, black eyebrows as he stared at the pair on the couch.

Matthew, who was straddling Alfred's stomach, slowly lifted his head from where he was lapping at the trail of maple syrup that was sluggishly making its way down his boyfriend's right pectoral. There was a smear of the sticky syrup on his reddening cheeks and his mouth was slightly slack, as though Matthew had yet to comprehend that his older brother had accidently just walked in on him in a kinky position.

Alfred just rested his head against the armrest of the couch and sighed loudly. "I should have known." He mused, his voice on the verge of hysterical.

"I'll just come back later…" Arthur said quietly, slowly inching back through the door. "…Have fun."

And then the apartment door shut, Matthew still staring at the spot where Arthur had stood and Alfred loudly lamenting that his dick was gonna shrivel up and fall off and he'd have to get a prosthetic and that just wasn't fair because he liked his God-given cock.

* * *

"He didn't mean it Al." Matthew said quietly, scrubbing at the dried syrup on his boyfriend's chest. "He just has really bad timing."

"…Really? I hadn't noticed Matt." Alfred responded flatly, grabbing his boyfriend's hand and bringing to his lips, pressing a kiss against his knuckles. "But I'm not mad."

"You're not?" The other blond asked, eyebrow quirked, brushing his fingers across Alfred's cheek and cupping it in his hand. "Really?"

"Really." Alfred smiled reassuringly (and lying straight through his teeth).

"So you won't hurt him?" Matthew fretted, his thumb brushing against Alfred's lower lip.

"Of course not." The other blond soothed, his blue eyes turning devilish as his tongue flicked out against the pad of the other's thumb. He wrapped his arms around the other man, pulling Matthew flush against his chest. "He's your brother and I'm sure he needed to talk you."

Violet eyes widened and Matthew's lips curved into a brilliant smile. Then, without warning, he surged forward and captured his lover's lips in a needy kiss. Alfred, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, swiped his tongue across the other's lower lip, slipping in and tangling with Matthew's when the blond opened his mouth willingly. When the two pulled apart, their lips equally wet and bruised, Matthew murmured, his breath warm against Alfred's lips, "You barricade the door and I'll assume the position."

No sooner had the words left his mouth, Matthew found himself thrown backwards on the couch as Alfred dashed to the door, pausing only to grab a chair from the kitchen table to shove under the doorknob.

Laughing, Matthew leisurely kicked off his boxers and slung on leg over the back of the couch, the other hanging to the other side. One hand slipped down between his legs and, inhaling sharply, one then two fingers breached the small ring of muscle. With a half-sighed whimper, the blond arched his back as his fingers stretched and twisted and scissored inside of him.

Panting and eyes screwed shut, Matthew didn't see Alfred return but he sure as hell felt a pair of large, strong hands grip his inner thighs and push his legs further apart.

And when something wet and wiggling and warm joined his two fingers, indigo eyes flew open and his hips bucked upwards as a strangled mewl tore from the blond's throat.

* * *

When Matthew was dozing on his bare chest, warm and sated, Alfred's mind was whirring. One arm wrapped around the other's shoulders, fingers stroking the area between his boyfriend's shoulder blades, the American was in deep thought.

Though Arthur said he would back off and stop interfering, Alfred really had no reason to believe that the Englishman would mind his own business. And even if he gambled and took the man for his word, Alfred wouldn't bet on Arthur finding romantic success. He just couldn't leave it up to chance.

The longer that Arthur remained single and failed on his blind dates, the greater the chance of the Brit throwing in the towel all together.

He'd have to take this into his own hands. If that meant being the Brit's wingman, fine. If he had to pay someone to keep Arthur busy, so be it.

He wasn't about to let Arthur, inadvertently or not, come between him and Matthew again.

And if Arthur found someone, Matthew would eventually learn to let go and stop worrying.

* * *

"Sorry about earlier." Arthur muttered, reluctantly and not meeting either Matthew or Alfred's eyes, still haunted by what he had walked in on (in all his attempts to cockblock, never had he seen that much skin since he bathed his younger brother). "Had I known I wouldn't have even entered."

"It happens." Alfred replied, equally reluctantly. "No hard feelings…"

Unless it happens again and then I will go _nuclear_, Alfred swore internally.

Okay, that was a little harder to say. But the approving smile on Matthew's face was worth.

"What did you need, Arthur?" Matthew asked, then.

"Well...I just got off with a blind date." Arthur began. "And he was a total twat."

"…Okay." His brother said slowly.

"As much as I appreciate you handpicking my dates, Matthew…" the sandy-haired man shifted, his expression apologetic. "I think that perhaps I should take it upon myself to find someone."

"Whatever you want!" Matthew said brightly. "I'm so happy you're being proactive, Arthur."

Alfred looked horrified, but neither brother noticed.

How the hell was he supposed to rig Arthur's love life now?

* * *

The bar was packed, a cloud of pale blue cigarette smoke hanging overhead. Big screen TVs lined the wall, showing the same college basketball game.

"What the fuck was that play?" Matthew bellowed, shaking his glass of beer at the screens, the liquid sloshing over the rim. "Fucking Americans can't play basketball for shit!"

Arthur was downing his martini (holding it up after every sip and proclaiming the next one for the Queen). "Bloody Yanks!" He slurred in agreement, not quite drunk but drunk enough to be well one his way to shitfaced. "Good-for-nothing, ungrateful tossers!"

Thankfully everyone else in the bar was too drunk or absorbed in the games to notice the two men bitching and cursing and being generally belligerent.

Alfred, who was stuck between both men, just sighed and sipped his club soda and lime (since it was his turn to be the designated driver).

"I think you two have had enough." He said quietly, wincing when Matthew slammed his glass onto the table.

"Quiet bitch!"

"Silence thyself cur!" The Brit agreed, stumbling off his stool and staggering off to a pair of girls next to the pool table (He was fairly certain the buxom redhead was eyeing him lustily).

"This is why I hate going out drinking with you two."

Suddenly Matthew giggled and he leaned over, resting his chin on his boyfriend's shoulder. "But you like it when I'm drunk." He purred, reaching up to tug gently at the hair on Alfred's nape. "Because I'm more susceptible to suggestion." His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, his violet eyes hooded and predatory. "Buy me another drink?"

Alfred, already feeling the slow unfurling of arousal low in his stomach, laughed shakily and took a calming sip of his drink. "Hehe, Mattie. I think I should cut you off."

He tried to ignore the wavy-haired blond by watching Arthur make an ass of himself with the two women (apparently the redhead wasn't eyeing him lustily).

Matthew smirked and leaned closer, lips a hair's breadth from his lover's ear, "Road head."

* * *

"Please tell me you sell Molsons." Alfred gasped out after shoving his way through the crowd around the bar, slamming his hands palm down onto the wooden surface.

The bartender, now an attractive blond man (apparently the stern-faced Swede who usually bartended had to leave early for the night), chuckled, drying a shot glass with a white towel. "Out of curiosity, why?" His voice had a faint accent and, if Alfred wasn't in a rush, he'd try harder to place it.

"Road head is at stake." The American retorted seriously. "And with the right drink I can convince him to play naughty schoolgirl later."

The other man looked up at him, an impressed expression on his face. "You are a lucky man."

"I'd be luckier if you slide me an ice-cold Molson." The man countered charmingly.

The bartender returned the smirk. "I'll be right back." He turned and left, disappearing into the back.

Alfred, drumming his fingers impatiently against the counter, nearly whooped in joy when the bartender appeared with two bottles.

"They're on the house." The blond man said with a wink, sliding over the chilled beer. "Have fun with your delectable little blond, _mon ami._"

"Thanks…" Alfred glanced at the other's nametag. "Francis." And with a wide grin, the American strode back to the table.

"Ah, to be young again." Francis mused, shaking his head and smiling.

* * *

"Dry martini. Shaken, not stirred." Arthur muttered, tapping the bar authoritatively, surprisingly swaying very little on his feet. He dragged his gaze away from his feet—having made sure that he wouldn't trip over any elves—to face the bartender. Immediately his expression turned dark and he snarled, "_You._"

The bartender, who was flirting with a gaggle of pretty women a little ways down, looked up, only vaguely interested. When he noticed the enraged Englishman, his lips curled disdainfully and he slowly straightened from where he was leaning on the bar. "_Rosbif._" He sneered.

"Frog." Arthur retorted, packing as much malice as he possibly could into that single word (which, interestingly, was a lot).

"I knew you'd be a drunkard like the rest of your countrymen." Francis said lightly, azure eyes narrowed.

"I am not a drunkard." Arthur snapped, furry eyebrows knitted together. "I am _not _drunk."

"I am over here." The Frenchman smirked. His smirk only widened when Arthur stiffened and looked at him properly, face scarlet in fury, stopping in his berating of the beer taps.

"Your belt makes you look like a poof." The sandy-haired man replied, a smug expression on his face when Francis squawked indignantly.

"This is Dior, you fashion-challenged hooligan!" He gestured at his black sequined belt.

"Fuck Dior."

* * *

"Is…is that Arthur?" Matthew asked breathlessly, dragging his fingers through Alfred's hair. "Al." He whined again, tugging at the dark blond strands when his boyfriend didn't stop kissing his neck.

"Probably." Alfred mumbled dismissively, voice husky as he sucked hard on his boyfriend's pale neck. "Does it matter?" He kneaded at Matthew's hip, pushing up the man's shirt, his own stool wobbling dangerously as he tried to move closer to the other blond.

"Y-yeah…it actually does." The other squinted. "Because right now he and the bartender are trying to strangle each other."

* * *

Never let it be said I do not love my readers. ^_^ Three updates in one night. Good start to the new year y/y?

Stay out of trouble, my loverlies. ;)


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